


Forever and Never

by WhichWolfWins



Series: Forever and Never 'verse [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Science Experiments, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhichWolfWins/pseuds/WhichWolfWins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock didn't know exactly how it happened. All he knew was that somehow, an experiment gone wrong had changed him, given him the power to travel through time. He didn't know whether it was a gift or a curse, because yes, he could travel through time, but it came at a price: He was always losing John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is in no way brit-picked or beta'd, so if you see any mistakes, they are my own and I would love for you to inform me of them! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and the BBC, and anyone else involved with the making and producing of this show. This is in no way mine; these are their toys and I am simply playing with them.

Sherlock’s heart stopped in his chest. He watched in horror as red blossomed around the new hole in John’s otherwise blindingly white shirt, between his heart and shoulder. John’s mouth fell open in silent surprise and he looked down at the red bleeding into the white, then he looked back up at Sherlock, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Sherlock rushed forward as John began to tilt. He hooked his arms under John’s and let John’s off-kilter weight lower them both to the floor.

Sherlock pressed his fingers over the bleeding wound to try to stop the blood from pulsing out. He dragged John back, propped himself up against the wall and cradled John between his legs with his back against his chest. He panicked as the blood seeped through his fingers, streamed down his hands to his wrists and down his forearms; so much red on so much white. He couldn’t tell which one of them was trembling, shaking so much that Sherlock had to hold John tighter or risk him slipping away. 

Sherlock pulled out his phone and called an ambulance, pressing blood covered fingers into the buttons frantically. He gave the location of the pool and put the phone down quickly to press his hand over the hand still pressed against John’s bleeding gunshot wound. 

He felt hot tears burning trails down his cheeks, felt the spots of blood drying on his face where it had sprayed onto him from John. He felt John’s blood pulsing against his hand and his heart... his heart racing because it was trying to keep the blood and oxygen flowing through John, trying to keep him alive. 

“John, don’t... don’t. Please, John,” Sherlock said, gasping out his friend's (John was mostly just his friend this time) name. 

“Sher...” John shuddered in his arms and fresh tears raced down Sherlock’s cheeks. He buried his face in John’s shoulder and struggled to breathe. The smell of blood and laundry softener filled his nose. “Sher...” John said, pressing his head against Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock felt John’s hand touch his pinky, then John’s fingers curled around his. He felt John try to squeeze; trying, always trying, to reassure him that everything was okay. 

“Why don’t I ever get to keep you?” Sherlock whispered against the soft skin of John’s neck, his voice breaking on the last word. He could feel John’s pulse fluttering against his cheek and his fingers still trying to reassure, always reassure. 

“Sh...Sh... Sh...” John’s teeth were chattering and Sherlock couldn’t tell if he was trying to hush him or say his name. 

“Not again, John, please,” Sherlock urged in a quiet whisper against John's skin, “please, not again.” 

“I... I... You,” John said, his fingers skittering against Sherlock’s hand as he shuddered again. 

“John... no. No. No. We’re finally... You said... you said you were willing to try, John. Please!” 

John’s fingers dragged limply down Sherlock’s fingers, dropped away and slid down to catch in the space between one button and another on John’s white shirt stained red. His fingers stayed there, trapped. Still. 

“John?” Sherlock said, leaning forward to get a look at John’s face, because... “John?” 

Because John was still. 

“No, no, no, no,” Sherlock murmured, shifting John while keeping his hands pressed against John’s chest. “No no no. You said... you said, John!” 

Sherlock slid halfway out from underneath John, propped him half against the wall and half on his leg so he could see John and... 

John was still. John’s chest wasn’t rising and falling. John wasn’t breathing, wasn’t blinking, wasn’t... John was still. 

“No. No. No! John!” Sherlock shouted, reaching up and taking John’s head between his blood covered hands. “John? John, please no.” 

John remained still. 

Sherlock was trembling as he cradled John’s limp head in his hands. Maybe he’d been the one trembling this whole time. He ran his fingertips along the curve of John’s brow, down over his cheek. He cradled the back of John’s head with his other hand and leaned down, tucked his head alongside John’s, ear to ear. 

He sniffed back the tears, breathed steadily to stop from crying, calmed himself the best he could when he was this scared... scared that it wouldn’t work again. But it couldn’t... it couldn’t not work. He wouldn’t let that happen. He’d done it many times before, and he could do it again, he was certain. 

Sherlock took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t live without John. Not again.


	2. Chapter 2

The world shifted beneath Sherlock’s feet and he startled, sloshing the test tube in his hand and splashing drops of the liquid on his wrist. He cursed and set the test tube back in the rack and turned toward the sink.

“Did you change your shirt?” John asked. 

Sherlock froze at the sound of John’s voice and turned to find him leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. John looked him over with a salacious smirk on his face. 

John pushed off the wall and stalked across the room toward Sherlock, his eyes noticeably dark. “I’ve always liked this shirt on you,” he said, reaching up and straightening Sherlock’s collar. “I like it even better off of you.” John’s smile grew and he slid his hands down to Sherlock’s collarbones and began to work open the buttons. “The purple one always makes me want to fuck you over the table.” 

Sherlock swallowed hard and John pressed his lips against his adam’s apple. Sherlock closed his eyes and tilted his head back. His heart was still clenched tight in his chest and he couldn’t get the image of John’s blood staining his shirt out of his head, but John was here now. John was okay here. They were together. 

“You always want to fuck me,” Sherlock said hoarsely. He felt utterly raw. John hummed against his trachea thoughtfully, probably wondering if Sherlock was getting sick. 

“Yes, but it’s the purple that makes me want to fuck you the hardest,” John told him. He kissed down Sherlock’s neck and parted his shirt to move down his chest. He tweaked Sherlock’s nipple with his lips and Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat. It had been a long time since they’d been more than friends and he revelled in John’s warm mouth on him. His tongue was warm as it swirled around his chest. 

John scooped his arms under Sherlock’s arse and lifted him off the floor. Sherlock wrapped his legs automatically around him and held on tight. His eyes were burning, but he ignored that, squeezing them closed and kissing John for the first time in too long. 

John carried him to their room and tossed Sherlock down on the bed, then climbed up after him and straddled his thighs. Sherlock brought his knees up behind John and John supported himself against them. He rolled his hips back and forth over Sherlock’s growing erection with a mischievous smile. 

“Are you sorry?” John asked, his fingers curled around the waistband of Sherlock’s trousers. 

  


He’d been here before. They’d gotten into one of their worst fights to date and Sherlock had told him that, if he was really so hard to be with, John should just go back to dating boring women. In the sudden silence of their flat, John had turned and looked at Sherlock like he’d just struck him across the face. 

  


After that, John had turned and left without a word and Sherlock had gone back to his kitchen lab and tried not to think about John never coming home. 

Sherlock nodded and John bent over him, gripping his own cock through his jeans. His irises were almost completely gone, consumed by his pupils as he looked into Sherlock’s eyes. “If you ever say that to me again, Sherlock, so help me- no more sex for you,” John said. “I love you, Sherlock, and I want to be with you, and I never want you to think otherwise. Do you understand me, Sherlock? I. Only. Want. You,” John told him, punctuating each word with a jab of his finger to Sherlock’s chest. It hurt, but Sherlock had suffered much worse. 

Sherlock caught John’s hand in his and held it tight. “I know, John,” he said in earnest. “I know. Now can you please just kiss me?” 

“I’m gonna do way more than that,” John said, then he leaned down and kissed Sherlock deeply. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's strong back and held on tight, kissing back desperately, even though he was still struggling to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have the time, I would love it if you let me know what you thought!
> 
> It's taking me a while, but I will definitely update this fic!
> 
> My tumblr is [here](http://whichwolfwins.tumblr.com/) if you would like to follow me!


End file.
